The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, 29 July 1915, Page 3

The Storyteller

f THE IMPROMPTU SERMON "\- V One Sunday not long after Christmas Lorena Fordham * induced her husband to accompany ■ her to High Mass at St. Martin's. She was becoming fearful for his eternal salvation. The things of this world held his entire allegiance now. ' - --■: . : ; She reflected bitterly that she had a goodly share of the responsibility for this state of affairs. She had • not held up the torch of faith to light their daily lives as the women of the household should. - She had permitted its beneficent light to be dimmed by her solicitude for the adornment of her beautiful self, by her greed for wealth beyond that of her neighbors. .Her desires had been gratified, and one of the results was the pompous bored man by her side. He endured the early part of the service, feeling that the church was highly honored by his presence. His wife, who was really intelligent in spite of her abortive ambitions, realised with a shock that he had assumed a patronising attitude towards God. She began to pray with passionate earnestness for a change of heart in him. She had counted somewhat on the sermon. St. Martin's was noted for the eloquence of its priests. Perhaps Father Condon himself, the pastor, one of the most famous speakers of the city, might preach that day. She had hoped for this until she had convinced herself that it would happen. It was, therefore, with a distinct feeling of disappointment that she saw a very young priest, a stranger,, come into the pulpit. The glory of recent ordination lay upon him, undimmed as yet by the trials, the sufferings, the sorrows that the special service of the Crucified brings. The high-held head and the light in the brilliant eyes told of his great pride in having been chosen by God for the the honor of His priesthood. It was as if he called upon all who looked upon him to rejoice with him that he had been so favored. But Mrs. Fordham saw only his youth and was sadly disappointed, She, was too poor in spiritual experiences to know that God's choice of His instruments is frequently not our choice. . As for Tom Fordham, after one supercilious glance at the recent collegian, he smiled a superior smile and settled back, with closed eyes, for still further endurance. But very soon he opened them again, for a voice of wonderful clearness and power was reading the Gospel of the day in a way to fairly rivet the attention. At its conclusion the tall young priest laid down the Book and calmly folded his hands on the pulpit rail before him. There was no trace of nervousness or embarrassment in his manner. He seemed to look straight into the eyes of the people with his startling, brilliant glance. .' ! V : ' ' Not many Sundays ago,' he began in that ringing, fascinating voice, there went forth from this pulpit the call to "prepare the way of the Lord, to make straight His paths." I have been wondering how many of us made any attempt at adequate preparation. His birthday has come and gone and been 'forgotten. The Feast of the Circumcision, marking the beginning of a new year, so advantageous a time for a spiritual renewal, has faded into the oblivion -of the dead years. What preparation, what resolutions we made have been forgotten, too, and we have gone back to the worldly ways that, we had no real intention of abandoning. 'How brief was the moment that we lingered by the Crib of Bethlehem. We did not dare to linger. We did not want to take it into our hearts, into our lives, because it meant perhaps the putting aside of the honors, the riches, the emoluments for which we have been ready to sell our immortal souk: How it startles our guilty hearts, that; bare poverty, as abject as the world has ever known! We shut our eyes to its piercing sweetness lest it clear our vision to our duty to the. poor . whom the Divine Lover of holy

poverty has left us as a sacred heritage. We tell ourSlyest soothingly that, we are poor in spirit, knowing not the meaning of the term. . ' ; - Pifi-7'As x I looked about your city the other day—for lam a stranger in your midst—l could not but note .-what-magnificent temples you have erected to Mammon. Verily, -Solomon in all his glory never dreamed of such buildings. How they tower towards, the skies and spread themselves out, as if to boast of the millions they cost! Their massive pillars, their marble floors, their sculptured walls and ceilings, shriek of money. And there are many concerned ,in their erection who scoff and sneer when approached in regard to some simple adornment for the house of the King of Heaven and earth. I could not but think of these things as I _ measured my pigmy height' against those gigantic piles. Oh, I could not but think in comparison of the patient lives of the poor of 'the city's uncounted poor, of their unspeakable hovels, their season-changed distresses, * their unutterable suffering ! I felt like crying out to God to spare this city lest its magnificence fall upon it and crush it. 'lt was while I was crossing one of the streets, thinking these things, that my eyes fell upon one of the most pitiful sights I have ever seen. At the corner of one of the great buildings that stretched almost a block in its towering splendor, there sat an old woman whose years must have totalled at least seventy-five. Wrinkled and grey-haired and poorly clad, there she was in the piercing wintry wind, offering her papers for sale. Of those who passed by many glanced at her casually, as if hardened to such*sights, others pityingly, hurrying on as if to forget. Perhaps, poor souls, there was nothing else they could do. Some stopped to buy a paper, and I was glad to see, several refused the change from the larger coin they gave in payment. '" But, great God, the pity of it! Someone within that magnificent building thought he was doing a very fine thing in permitting the poor old woman to sell her papers so near the door of his great temple of trade. He had a mother, that man. Perhaps she's dead, but dead or living, a mother lie must have had, and for her sake he might have placed that poor old tottering woman in comfort for her few .remaining years. But the poor are proud, and it may be that she preferred her independence thus obtained to being cared for by a stranger. So we will absolve the man who gave her permission to sit near his temple gate. But I found that there was within that great building a man with a heart -so hard, so black, so utterly without human feeling, that it seems almost impossible to believe that there is such a heart beating in the world to-day. Oh, I hope that I may never meet that man ! I would not like to touch his hand, the hand that is lifted up to strike one of Christ's poor a bitter blow. I hope he does not pretend to belong to the Church of Jesus Christ. " No, that is too abhorrent a thought;, that could not be, that one who had ever tasted the sweetness of the Sacramental God could sink so low. Yet Judas was at the first Sacred Banquet'—the tense voice had sunk to a soft, sorrowful "musing, but his breathless hearers did not miss a word. -." In one of the front pews a white-faced man shrank and cowered, waiting for the lash to fall, and presently it fell. 'Would you believe it, my friends, that man found this poor old paper-seller so repulsive sight that he had the privilege of selling her papers in that place taken away from her. She was an eyesore to this fine gentleman who would have only elegant, moneybegotten objects about him. She told me with the scant tears of the aged -in her dimmed eyes. , She had greeted me with the reverent little courtesy of the older Irish, born for the priest. In answer to my few questions the simple story was laid bare, the death of her husband, of her children, the story • of her 'long struggle, her poverty,' and her desire to be of use, to., support herself. :. And she had managed well enough with her meagre earnings to keep her one room/,to buy ■>

the : ,little .food and. clothings she required. £• Now the assurance of that little was to' be taken from her. ' ,Ji - "But surely," I said, "this man will provide other means for your support;; will send you to some good home. It cannot be that he cabstand to see you turned adrift after: cutting you/off from this r-lace where you have established;a. small trade!" - Sadly she shook her head. That day and the next, which was Saturday, she might remain, but after that she could come back no more. I thought it a simple matter to find another place, but she smiled at my credulity. "The places were all taken by those younger and more active," she said, and indeed I found, as I went along afterwards,' that that was true. .' I gave the woman a hope of help, though I could not promise much', being a stranger. But oh! I think that as long as I live the name of your wonderful city will conjure up for me the pathetic sight of that bent old figure in the faded grey shawl against the background of the great building that looked so pitilessly cold and grim. And "I ask that in your charity you will pray for that man to whose sight the poor old paperseller was so offensive, for indeed he has need of prayers. If such as he had gone to the Crib of the Infant Saviour, had remained long enough to take in its unparalleled lesson, what a different world it would be. He would have seen, then, with that clearer, higher vision, that that poor old woman, struggling so courageously for independence at her advanced age, was an infinitely -more beautiful sight than all the man : constructed buildings in the world. He would have seen the sweet, kind soul that looked out of her brave old eyes, growing dim to the things of earth because they were so soon to glow brightly in eternity. ' Ah, that seems a hard lesson for us to learn, my friends, that the poor are perhaps more beautiful in the sight of the Almighty God than our immaculate, well-clad selves. _ We look upon them as eyesores,- as blots on creaiionj to be patronised and snubbed and looked down upon. We give them the things we no longer want and boast of our charity. Oh, will we ever succeed in remembering when we look upon them that, in scorning our poorer brethren, we scorn and condemn the Son of Cod, who so loved and honored poverty as to deliberately choose it as the condition of His earthly sojourn, who was born in a stable, lived a life of lowliness and labor and died the death of the poor and abandoned V During the rest of the Mass, to his wife's surprise, Tom Fordham remained on his knees. There was something about him that made her fear he was ill, but there was something, too, that made her refrain from questioning him. On the way home and at lunch he was abstracted and silent. Mrs. Fordham missed his decidedly expressed views on the topics of the day. None that she tried to bring up for discussion seemed, to interest him. Early in the afternoon, with no adequate explanation, he went out. »• ~ Father Stanley, over at St. Martin's rectory, was surprised when a caller was announced, for he knew no one in the city. The man who awaited him in the little reception room was a total stranger. The young priest went forward, however, with outstretched hand, for he felt lonely and the other priests in the house were busy. But the man's hand did not go out to meet his. ' You said very recently that you would not like to touch my hand,' was his odd greeting. 'I am the unspeakable wretch you described in the pulpit this morn--ing.' • " ; .'•■.-"• ' ■- . ._ ; ; .'■;/-;. Father Stanley started a little, but his eyes did not flinch from the challenging eyes of the man before him. 'Yes?' he said, and there was no apology in. his tone nor in his look. - . 'I don't know why I have come to you,' Fordham went on when the priest said nothing further. 'Somehow it-seemed as if I was compelled to come.' '-%-A s| 11 Yes V Father Stanley said again, but . the 'magic voice was hopeful.- .:; _ ""it: , .^ .riii'l-—I; have been ; r>rffod up with pride and * selfsatisfaction. . I have blinded myself - with wealth, until

everything else has grown; insignificant, unworthy of notice—even God.' - : -~- : -- {.-'-i***?***" .?-•-: \ >';■■■--'-■ S d 'Wealth ds- very apt to have: that effect.' The beautiful cold voice was melting a little. .:.••" ! - v That is the only explanation 1 can offer. : I don't know, why lam making it.. When you came into the pulpit this morning I. never dreamed I would be here only ' a few ; hours later telling you what a—what an imbecile, what a . fool I have been. I thought you contemptibly, young and inexperienced' -to address so intelligent an audience.' $ The recent collegian laughed, a ringing, boyish laugh that brought a light to the dulled, shamed eyes of the erstwhile pompous banker. *lt is a fault Ave all have onceyouth, and the easiest in the world to overcome; one has only to wait.' 'What you said opened my eyes somehow what you said and how you said it. I don't think anything else could have done it.' Father Stanley shook his head. His eyes grew misty. .'"%:' It was not my voice that reached your heart, my" friend. It was the prayers of a sweet-souled old woman whom hardships and suffering and sorrow have not soured nor embittered. The prayers from hearts like that win marvellous graces from the Divine treasury.' ' Do you mean that that woman to whom I was so brutally unkind has been praying for me? I deserved her curse, rather. She does not know mo, does not know who it was that wished to have her sent away. I acted on my objections through others ' 'She has been praying for you, nevertheless, for the man with the cold heart. She guessed you needed prayers. When it comes to that we all need them, you know.' - Fordham was silently thoughtful for quite a long time. Father Stanley waited patiently. 'lt is well that she prayed for me. But it was you who delivered the message. I have not gone to Mass for months, not for more than a year—not since a* year last Easter, in fact. Do you not find it grange that I should be there when you delivered that sermon ' It is stranger still in view of the fact that it was not at all the* sermon I intended to preach. I had prepared a sermon on the Gospel of the day. But that incident had persistently recurred to me. I could not get it out of my mind. Something in the attitude of the congregation this morning stirred me up, an atmosphere of self-satisfaction, of smugness, and it all came out.' 'I was the smuggest of the lot,' Fordham said humbly. ' But I think, I hope, that I shall not be like that again. You have opened my eyes to the supreme folly.of it. And you can help me further, if you will.' He looked at the young priest appealingly. 'Yes?' The voice that could so denounce was encouraging. ~ .?>; 'You can help mo find that woman, you can help me set this straight. You said you had given her a hope of assistance, so I know that you have not lost sight. of her. It is a lot for a snob like me to ask of you, to take up your time with ' Father Stanley's eyes were shining with a boyish eagerness and happiness that was good to see. Come, my friend,' he said, ' let us go to her now. She has need of cheer. You could not ask of me a thing I would be more willing to do.' He held out his hand again, and Tom Fordham laid his hand within it, feeling its warm clasp the greatest honor he had ever received.— The Magnificat.